


a Triple Threat

by siriuslyuptonogood



Series: Good Boys Do Cry [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, BDSM, Belts, Corporal Punishment, Dom/sub, Domestic Discipline, M/M, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:41:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26622334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siriuslyuptonogood/pseuds/siriuslyuptonogood
Summary: Derek has been lying for weeks about working overtime. Mostly that he's not doing it. He tells Stiles that he's with Chris and Peter. Chris and Peter think he's with Stiles. He's really, really wants to get away with this one, but when walks into the brownstone and all three of them are sitting, waiting for him, he knows his luck has run out.He's fucked.
Relationships: Chris Argent/Peter Hale, Derek Hale & Isaac Lahey & Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale & Peter Hale & Chris Argent, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: Good Boys Do Cry [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1621288
Comments: 8
Kudos: 155





	a Triple Threat

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! It's me! I missed you! It's been a long, hard summer. I'm sad a lot. Pandemic is hard and I miss people. So, existing has been difficult, but I'm here! I'm almost done with grad school! things are looking up. 
> 
> I couldn't remember if I was tagging this as a BDSM AU or not, but this one is, so -shrugs-

When Derek walked into the brownstone, he stopped short at the sight of not just Stiles waiting for him, but also Peter and Chris.

"Oh, no," he said.

"Understatement of the year," Peter said and he sounded irritated.

"Go on up and take your shower, Derek. Bring your paddle back down with you," Stiles said. He just sounded disappointed. Which Derek hated far more than irritated. Chris stayed quiet, but he looked about as happy as the other two.

Isaac sat on his bed in his room, door open. He glanced at Derek and then stood, hurrying to hug him tight.

"Stiles invited Chris and Peter for Pizza Friday 'cause you said you were having dinner with them again," Isaac said. "He was really mad when he got off the phone."

"I'm in big trouble," Derek mumbled, hugging him back.

"All the cuddles after," promised Isaac.

Derek knew it would all eventually catch up to him, but he'd hoped that it wouldn't. He'd hoped he could get through this case and no one would know. But he had gotten caught

He'd been lying. Which probably wasn't even the worst part but was an important factor. He'd been lying to Stiles, saying he was spending time with Chris and Peter. He'd been lying to Chris and Peter saying he was spending time with Stiles. He'd also been lying to his boss and not logging his overtime, but his boss wasn't going to beat his ass for that. The long hours were the worse of the things, really, because there had been a few discussions about that and how it was bad for his health to be pulling 60, 70 hour work weeks. But also folded up inside the long hours were the missed meals and the fact that he was existing mostly on coffee and m&ms and God, he was in so much trouble.

He hung up his work clothes. He showered. He dressed in soft pajama pants and what was actually one of Chris' sweatshirts. He sat down to pull on socks and just stayed for a few minutes before he went to the dresser and picked up his paddle. It was oval, thick, about the size of his hand across, and made of dark reddish-brown wood. Isaac had a similar one, though in blonde wood. They lived side by side on the dresser in the master bedroom. Stiles liked the structure of it. The way it made them think about what they'd done as they retrieved the paddle.

He sighed, held the paddle to his chest, and headed downstairs.

"Please tell me you're having an affair," Stiles said as soon as Derek had made his way into the living room, then continued before Derek could even open his mouth, "because otherwise you've not only been disregarding a handful of rules from three different doms but also lying about it to all three of us. You stepping out on me, Derek?"

Derek looked at the floor. He knew Stiles didn’t think that. Especially considering the poly nature of their relationship.

"No," he said.

"No?" Stiles stood. He gripped Derek’s chin and forced their eyes to meet. "That how you talk to me?"

"No, sir!" Derek couldn’t help the soft whimper. His eyes filled with tears. Stiles pulled back. He took Derek's paddle and sat down.

"Where have you been when you told us you couldn't have dinner because you'd made plans with Stiles, how many times this week was it, husband?" Peter said and he didn't even look at Chris, kept his eyes on Derek.

"Twice this week. Three times last week," Chris replied, gaze also on Derek.

Derek bit his lip.

"Same place as when you said the same to me, just about plans with them, I'm guessing," Stiles added, "where was that, Derek?"

"Work," Derek said, voice soft, hesitant.

"How much overtime you logged this week?" asked Chris.

"I haven't... uh, logged any of it."

"So you're lying to your company too. How much free labor did they get out of you this week, nephew?" Derek didn’t want to answer Chris’ question, in fact, he didn’t want to answer any questions. He wanted the floor to open up and drag him elsewhere. Anywhere else would be better than there at that moment.

"Maybe... twenty hours, or so?" And Derek watched as Chris' eyes narrowed.

"You get off at five," Stiles said, "get home after ten every night."

"Twenty-six," Derek confessed, wringing his hands because of course knew the exact number. He knew how much trouble he was in. "I worked four on Monday, then five the rest of the week. Through lunch twice."

"How many meals have you skipped?" Chris asked.

Derek looked at the floor. He tugged at the hem of his sweater. Because he's eaten something out of the vending machine every night this week. And the skipped lunches. Not that he's ever been good at eating lunch anyway.

"Derek," Peter's voice is sharp. "You answer questions asked of you."

"Eight," Derek whined.

Chris made an unhappy sound deep in his throat and tears dripped slowly down Derek's face.

"The fact that you haven't logged your overtime means you know you shouldn't be working so much. You're draining yourself, Derek. Not eating on top of that? You're going to get sick," Stiles said.

"Working eight to ten is not sustainable. Fourteen-hour workdays? And you're not even getting paid for them!" Chris added.

"And lying to us about it all is especially not acceptable," Peter said. "So here's what's going to happen. I'm going to use my hand. Stiles will follow up with the paddle, and then you're going to get one stroke of Chris' belt for every hour you've worked over forty. Don't you ever pull anything like this ever again. Endangering your health, fucking lying to us? Unacceptable."

"Would you like to say anything?" Stiles asked and his voice had gone a little softer.

"I'm sorry," Derek replied, "I just... this case is difficult, and I just thought I could get through it quicker."

"Sweetheart," Christopher said, shaking his head, "if you worked yourself to the bone, exhausted and made yourself sick and that at all affected you in court, how would you feel?"

"Bad," Derek said, not even having to think about it, but then he did think about it and his insides twisted. Because what if he'd messed up in court? What about the kid? This was all for her. He wrapped his arms tightly around himself, already crying, already ready to break down.

Peter stood and coaxed his arms loose, then hugged him, cupping the back of his neck. "You are harder on you than any one of us, darling boy, when you do things like this, you end up hurting yourself. Every time. I hate seeing it."

Derek clung to Peter, crying harder. When he'd calmed a little, Peter pulled back enough to cup his face.

"Take off your pajama pants and go stand in the corner a few minutes, okay?"

Derek nodded. "Yes, Papa," he mumbled and did as he was told. He folded the pants and left them on the table, then moved to the corner. He stood, feet shoulder's width apart, hands together behind his back, resting just over the swell of his ass, how Chris had shown him so long ago. Stiles had liked it, so he kept it. Derek wasn't sure how long he'd been there when Peter called him back, but he shuffled back to stand in front of Peter and Chris. Peter gripped his hips.

"You do not lie to us, Derek Alexander," he said, firmly, "you ever lie to any one of us like this again, I'm going to wash your mouth out and then paddle you, you understand?"

"Yes, Papa."

Peter tugged his briefs down almost to his knees and Derek quickly found himself sprawled across his lap, his head toward Chris. He looked up at Chris and when the older man offered him his hand, immediately took it.

Peter started hard. He always did when it came to these types of situations. Was skilled in the art of hard and fast. He said it was because he liked to get punishments over with. Play lasted longer, he took his time, made it feel good. This wasn't meant to feel good. And it didn't.

Derek tried to be quiet. He gripped Chris' hand, but Peter spanked so _hard_ and he was quickly squirming and whining. Tears were moot at this point because he'd been crying regularly since the beginning of the conversation, really.

"Papa!" he cried, kicking his legs, "please, I'm sorry! Please!"

Peter slapped the back of his thigh. "Legs down, you know better."

Derek howled, but he crossed his ankles, tried to keep his legs down. He managed it for about thirty seconds and then Peter trapped them with one of his own and spanked, if possible, even harder, right on his sit spots.

His backside was on fire and he sobbed, still apologizing, still pleading until Peter stopped.

Stiles spoke next. "Corner," he said, and Derek was helped to his feet, but when he started to pull up his briefs, Stiles said, "no one gave you permission to do that. Leave them." And so Derek was in the corner, crying, his bare, spanked bottom on display, which was honestly the least of his worries. Besides the only person other than the three spanking him in the house was Isaac. And they'd seen each other spanked loads of times. That aside, Isaac wouldn't come down. He'd probably shut his door and put his headphones in. He hated hearing it from another room. Sometimes, depending on his headspace, it actually distressed him. More than once Isaac had begged Daddy not to spank Derek while in little space. Not that it worked, but the poor boy sometimes was almost too full of empathy.

"Here, now," Stiles said and Derek moved to stop right in front of him. "Over." Stiles liked to lecture with Derek over his lap, liked to punctuate it with spanks sometimes. It was so different from Peter, longer, more drawn out.

"Your health is so important, Der, you have to eat. You can't just skip meal after meal. You're going to get sick. We are going to be implementing a chart like Isaac has."

Derek bit his lip. Isaac had a chart on his phone to help him track how much water he was drinking, if he was or was not regularly eating, and a few other things. He got two free hiccups a week (they'd decided to call it that instead of strikes) and three or more meant he got a Sunday spanking. Derek's terrible lunch habits, which he'd mostly been able to keep to himself, were going to get him in trouble.

Stiles started spanking him. And he was more of a long-distance spanker. His swats were firm, but not too hard, allowing him to go for long periods. Though over an already well-spanked ass, they didn't feel "not too hard". He was squirming immediately, and Stiles trapped his legs and just spanked him. He covered every inch of Derek's ass, making him howl and buck. He threw a hand back to cover, regrettably, and Stiles grabbed it and flipped it palm up. Derek immediately curled his fingers.

"Don't you dare. Flat," Stiles said and Derek whined, but slowly unfurled his fingers. The paddle came down on his hand and he shouted. He pulled his throbbing hand back and held it tight to his chest, sobbing. Stiles spanked the tops of his thighs and then stopped. Derek didn't notice at first. He just sobbed, but then he was pulled to his feet and wrapped up Chris' arms.

"Almost done," Chris promised and lead him to the couch. He was pushed over the arm of it, but Peter was right there to hold his hands and he did and kissed his forehead, but then Derek heard the sound of Chris' belt coming out of his pants and dropped his head, his insides churning.

"Twenty-six," Chris said, "and I'm not going to make you count, but if it happens again, you will be counting every stroke and thanking me for it."

"Yes, Daddy," Derek whimpered.

And he was crying from the first stroke. The leather felt like fire over everything else, each stroke a new line of fire laid across his ass. He bucked and howled, but Peter held his hands, so he didn't throw a hand back this time. He did kick and was rewarded with a "be still," and a stroke across his thighs.

When it was finally over, Derek laid limp over the arm of the couch, sobbing. He was past apologies and pleading and just cried. He sobbed harder when Chris pulled his briefs up over his throbbing, swollen ass, but then he was pulled onto the couch and on his hip in Chris' lap, his legs spread out over Peter, with Stiles on Chris' other side, gently carding his fingers through Derek's hair. Derek cried for a while.

"You did so well, sweetheart," Stiles said, voice soft, "took that like the good boy we know you are."

"We are so proud of you, little boy," Chris said, rubbing his back.

"All forgiven," Peter murmured.

Derek tilted his head back to look at Stiles. "Isaac?"

"I'll go check on him," came the promise with a forehead kiss, then Stiles headed upstairs.

"You'll be having dinner with us on Sunday," Peter said. "Every Sunday. But it'll be early so you and Stiles can settle your chart before bed."

Derek pouted but nodded. He shifted, whined when he rolled onto his ass, and then slid off the couch to sit on his knees, resting his head in Chris' lap. Peter shifted so he was curled up with Chris but could comb his fingers through Derek's hair.

Stiles came back down a little bit later, sans Isaac, and Derek looked up.

"I think it's time for bed," Stiles said, "say goodnight and go on up."

Derek pushed up so he could hug Chris and Peter who pressed kisses all over his face.

"Love you, baby boy," Chris murmured before Peter added, "right up to the moon and back." After one more hug each, Derek pushed himself up and headed upstairs. He stopped at Isaac's room, empty, then continued to the master where Isaac was snuggled up right in the middle of the bed. Derek smiled and climbed in. Isaac looked like he'd been crying a little, but he smiled when Derek snuggled right up to him.

"Was it awful?" Isaac asked, pressing his face to Derek's neck. "It sounded awful."

Derek wrapped his arms around Isaac, pulling him close.

"I lied and skipped meals and was working dangerously long hours. I deserved it. I'm sorry you had to hear it."

Isaac shook his head and just clung to Derek. It was comfortable and warm and Derek had already been pretty tired before everything, so they both drifted, not quite asleep, but not awake. After a few minutes, Stiles came in. He stopped, smiled, then headed to the bathroom.

He turned off the lights and crawled in behind Derek, who shifted slightly, but not enough to move Isaac who was properly asleep then.

"How do you feel?" Stiles asked.

"Tired," Derek said, "very sore. But very loved. I never even considered the three of you teaming up, though. That was... wow. I'm never ever going to misbehave again."

Stiles laughed and pressed a kiss to Derek's shoulder. "I give you two weeks tops before you've been a brat," he said. "I love you, baby. So much."

"Love you, sir," Derek murmured, letting out a soft sigh as Stiles settled. He was sore. But he had no doubt about deserving that. And he did truly feel so loved knowing there were three men who could (and would) band together to make sure he was properly taken care of. Even if that meant a spanking or three.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to hit me up on Tumblr, siriuslyuptonogood~


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